


Pack Isn't The Only Reason

by ladyoneill



Series: Lady O's Teen Wolf Bingo Stories [84]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Head Injury, M/M, Pack Dynamics, Permanent Injury, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 16:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2075766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoneill/pseuds/ladyoneill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles won't get any worse, but he won't get any better either.  The Sheriff finds help in a surprising place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pack Isn't The Only Reason

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the hurt/comfort bingo prompt: head trauma. This was supposed to be a Derek/Stiles story and then it turned weird. The comfort isn't about Stiles at all. It's also not over 1K but, hey, I wrote 5500 words yesterday; I kind of poohed out.

As he watches his son crying noisily into Derek's shoulder, watches him both accept comfort and try to escape it, watches the werewolf refuse to let him go, soothing him with murmurs and touches, John wishes desperately for a drink, but the house is dry.

The day the final tests came in followed by the specialist's prognosis, he poured out all the bottles, and he won't buy any more.

Derek looks up, meets his eyes, and nods, and John slips out of the living room. Exhausted, he climbs the stairs to his bedroom where he slumps despondently on the bed and buries his face in his hands.

He can't cry, though. He used up all his tears in the month after finding out that Stiles will never recover.

The doctors spouted a lot of big words, but, basically, the bullet to the head damaged his short term memory. It isn't all the time, but Stiles becomes confused. He forgets what he's doing or people's identities or simple, basic knowledge. Other times he's fine, remembering everything.

There are no specific triggers, no way to tell when it's going to happen.

School's not a possibility. College will never happen. There'll be no career, no wife or husband or kids. He'll be this way until he dies.

And, on top of the memory problems, there are wild mood swings, as the part of the brain that governs emotions was also damaged beyond repair. When he forgets things, Stiles often gets too frustrated and lashes out in anger. Rage is all too common. Or the tears and crying.

The doctors don't think he'll get worse, but he's never going to improve. As he needs constant attention in case he forgets where he is and wanders off, forgets how to use the toilet, or hurts someone in one of his rages, they recommended putting him in a nursing home, but John can't do that. He was already putting together the forms for early retirement when a solution dropped into his lap.

A slight noise from the doorway draws his attention and he looks up with tired eyes to see Derek hovering there.

"He's asleep."

"What set him off this time?"

"He couldn't remember the name of the tv show we'd been watching for twenty minutes."

John sighs and rises to his feet, wincing at the creaking of his knees and just how tired he feels. Swinging between manic phases and stubborn silence, Stiles kept him up half the night. Even though he tried to convince his dad to go to bed, it was obvious he didn't want to be alone.

"You look tired." Derek scrubs his hand over his face. He doesn't look much better. "I should have stayed last night. Stiles told me you were up for hours with him."

"Scott needed you to help with that Omega," John replies with a shrug. "I rely on you too much as it is. I don't want us to take over your whole life."

A slightly sad smile crosses the younger man's face and he moves in front of John, then starts unbuttoning his shirt. "You are my whole life."

"I'm an old, beaten down man."

Derek slips the shirt off and expertly tosses it in the hamper behind him before leaning forward and kissing John softly. "Not old, not beaten down."

"Okay, but, really, really tired." And pretty sure he couldn't get an erection even if Derek was on his knees doing that thing with his tongue.

"I'm going to run a bath. We'll get clean and relaxed and then we'll both be able to sleep."

"Stiles..." John protests weakly.

"Also didn't sleep much last night. He didn't even stir when I carried him up to his bed. And if he wakes up, I'll take care of him. We need our Sheriff to have a clear mind to keep the peace in this town, right?"

"I don't know why you put up with all of this."

They don't usually talk about it, but John understands it's more than just because they're Pack, although that probably was the reason at the start. Derek still struggles with words and emotions, and John is still pretty much in shock that somehow he's fallen into a relationship with a man young enough to be his son.

So, they kiss again, nothing passionate or going to lead to bed, just...caring, sweet, needed.

End


End file.
